A City That Never Wakes
by Aliada
Summary: The burning of the street signs came first (written for the WinterFRE2020).


City. Lungs filled with smoke. Euphorea. Buzzing of the hurried thoughts. It was nothing new. In fact, it was as old as the beginning of times itself. Usually, it was called 'routine' because it meant nothing and led nowhere. But meanings had the tendency to change, and it was one of these days.

The burning of the street signs came first.

"It's utter chaos out there."

"You mean even more so than when you attempt roller-skating and end up falling over every five minutes?"

"Yes."

Fili abandoned his coffee-making experiments and looked up. It wasn't often that Kili didn't react to outright provocation. A serious, almost grim tone in his voice only served to fuel Fili's conern.

"They don't know how to explain it. 'Some shit catching fire' is the most reasonable version I've heard."

Fili frowned.

"And what about unreasonable versions?"

Kili rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to hear about alien invasion or demons of the Underworld? Or better hear this one. It's my favorite. "Revenge of the Awakened Ghosts". Sounds catchy, doesn't it?"

"What do ghosts have to do with anything?"

"Well, haven't you heard? This place used to be a grave. Like a haunted hause but of a much bigger scale."

Fili looked at him intently, trying to gauge his mood. At the surface, Kili was seemingly dismissive. But Fili knew him well enough not to confuse dismissiveness with fear. And his brother was scared.

"You haven't been caught, have you?"

He didn't even try to mask concern in his voice. Kili will just have to put up with that. His brother's nod wasn't convincing in the slightest, but Fili knew where to pick his battles. Now, he just needed to get the gist of it. Somehow.

There would have been nothing unusual in Kili's behavior if he wasn't, under normal circumstances, enamored with the city mythology. As soon as they moved in, friendless and filled with painful memories of their old life, Kili has taken up a hobby. Because he knew his brother well enough, Fili decided that it wouldn't be long until Kili found himself some friends to go with the hobby (or was it the other way around?). It was just how his little brother functioned. Kili didn't disappoint. The choice of friends was just a bit bizarre, but Fili didn't mind a little strangeness as long as his brother was enjoying himself. In other words, his first impressions weren't meant to last. A little extravagant Mister Baggins turned out to be a trustworthy, loyal fellow, and Dwalin became surprisingly… mellow with time. Eventually, his suggestion to find the friends a bit closer in age had died down on his lips never quite making its way out. All in all, Kili seemed to be in capable hands. The hobby, at first rather innocent, progressed exponentially. Bilbo's stash of books definitely helped with that, and so did Dwalin's architectural wonders. Houses of all shapes and forms. Castles that could occupy an entire room. Fili couldn't help but feel impressed. They would be sitting for hours, sketching and telling each other stories, thinking up new worlds and then quite literally building them from scratch. Their minds seemed to be constantly occupied with new things. For Kili, who had always had a low boredom threshold, it was ideal. But most of all, these two kept his brother happy, and, in Fili's eyes, there couldn't be enough gratitude worthy of their efforts.

And now, Kili was standing in front of him and pretending that he found all that ridiculous. Well, maybe not the alien stuff, it was indeed ridiculous. But the rest? He used to be obsessed with all these mysterious things, to the point that he'd hungrily devour the barest scraps of information and still want more. If anything, Fili should have been the one to find that ridiculous, but he couldn't. Couldn't then and especially couldn't now, not when there was a ghost of terror in his brother's eyes. Their window didn't provide much helpful information. Or, to be more precise, it provided no information at all. Everything seemed… not peaceful, because peace wasn't an accurate definition of this place, not even of the relatively quiet area they've been living in, but _usual_. Busy. Noisy. Constantly on the go. And yet, he could no longer think that everything was alright. He didn't want to ask, but the words found their way out, strenuous and hushed.

"What is the rest?"

Kili gave him a falsely surprised look and Fili shook his head.

"Street signs are hardly more than the beginning. You told me yourself. What is the rest?"

Kili sat down with a huff, not meeting Fili's eyes. Fili sighed and served them both coffee. He couldn't help but hope that the drink was to Kili's taste. One thing about his brother was that he was more or less easily distracted, which, although annoying at times, was proving to be increasingly helpful now.

Kili took a drink and his eyes widened in an amusing mix of surprise and pleasure.

"That's good! When did you learn to do this?"

Fili lifted his eyebrows.

"Are you implying that I couldn't do it earlier?"

Kili took a longer sip, made a show of intense thinking, and shook his head 'no', sparkles of barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

Fili tried to even out his breathing. He didn't want to shatter that short-lived relief, didn't want to be a cause of a haunted look in Kili's eyes, and yet his concern refused to quieten, and so did the questions in his head.

"Tell me, Kili. Just tell me. We both know it would be easier if you do."

Kili's look of almost-betrayal hit him hard, but he stored that feeling away and schooled his features to match his non-existing, but very much needed composure.

"Street signs. Tragedies. Guilt. Detachment. Four stages of the End."

Kili's dull, mechanical voice nearly made Fili flinch. He caught himself, though, and asked again.

"But aren't these just-"

Kili shot up, his eyes suddenly alive with indignation.

"What? Fairytales? Horror stories? Do you think me stupid?"

_Do you think I can't distinguish between stories and reality? _That was the unspoken message. And there was a good reason for it to be left unspoken. Fili had never doubted Kili's thoughts, actions or feelings, and Kili had always known that. End of the World or no, they weren't going to start doubting each other now. And Fili needed Kili to understand that, to _trust_ in that once again.

"Will they all follow?"

For a heartbeat, Kili looked as if he was ready to challenge the sincerity of Fili's question, blame him for playing along while having no real understanding of what Kili was going through, but then, as if melted by a sudden reproach, that urge fell down to a whispered, "I don't know. The myth says they will."

This time, Kili's voice was no longer automatic, but that fact didn't bring Fili much joy.

"The myth?"

Kili made an impatient gesture.

"It's a figurative name for the collection of fairytales, legends and other things we've gathered. Obviously, it was _supposed_ to be fiction, not-"

He cut himself off, looking increasingly desperate by the second.

Fili spared one more glance at the marching people outside and turned to his brother.

"Tell me."


End file.
